Kinkster in Amsterdam.

I finally got to see Amsterdam yesterday. I love it. It's cute, compact, and all the buildings are sinking at an angle into the sand below. The windows in the red light distract were pretty surreal. And in case you were wondering, no I don't smoke ganja.

Like all good trips to A'dam, there was a good amount of surreality involved. At some point, Dan called up this girl he'd met on okC, Rochelle, who was this Suriname-Dutch fetish model currently living with her boyfriend in the poshest hotel in the city. She turned up in the shortest skirt I'd seen all week, killer heels and bright red lipstick. We went to some bar off the tourist track, and had non-stop whiskeys and tequilas.

I like Rochelle. She was cool and unpretentious and smart and (new word I learned) a Kinkster. Just to clear the record, I'm not really a Kinkster. I guess I used to be, but these days, it's not something I'm actively looking for. Although I won't reject the possibility for kinky sex, if the mood hits me. I guess. Anyway, looks like this might be sooner rather than later, especially if Rochelle comes over for dinner next Tuesday (which she most certainly will now since she's put it in her diary... you know, the one that all Dutch women have. It doesn't matter how trashed they are, if you make an appointment with them and they take it seriously, the diary will come out. If they are doubly serious, they'll also record it in their phone).

At some point, I asked her when did she start getting into the fetish scene, and I think the answer basically was, when she started having sex. Then she went on to say that however, she was born kinky. She always knew she leaned a certain way. One early benchmark was how she used to torture her Barbie dolls. That got me. I used to torture my Barbie dolls, but I never bothered to tell anyone before. There just never was quite a time, place or person to confide such a thing, until yesterday.

Then she started talking about getting fisted. To be honest, that is one thing I have never, ever fantasized about. Gabriel had told me (jokingly of course!) it was a great way to get a girl to fall utterly in love with you. If you do the unexpected, like fist rape her, the shock would do something to her brain that would make her go crazy for you after. Um... right. Rochelle then told me she would cut her nails before next Tuesday so we could attempt this. :-O  Well! If the mood is right, I'd be willing to try most things once. However, we all agreed that the line had to be drawn at scat.


Surreal enough for a first trip to Amsterdam, if you ask me. If her boyfriend who joined us later had been more partial to it, I'd have gladly taken the whole show back to the hotel.

I'm going back there this weekend for a concert Dan (the sweetheart!) has planned way in advance (The Gotan Project is playing this weekend I think, or was it Florence? I can't remember), and then I'll be back there again next week to meet a fellow Fantasy- Freak. I tried to look up Hackerspaces, bar-camps and other similar things here, but I think Holland has so much weird shit going on locally that it's probably not necessary and a bit pointless for me to try and look these things up.